"That a good way to look at things," Lafayette says, relaxing a little at the sound of her laughter. If she can laugh at shit like that, he figures, she an alright lady.
"Least, that's how I always felt. Whatever you gotta do to deal. You wanna go to church every Sunday, fine you wanna go to the gun range and shoot shit, fine. You wanna go home and stand nekkid in front of your fridge and eat your feelings out of an ice cream container, that fine too. And it's all a hell of a lot cheaper than a lifetime of Xanax and a shrink bill."
He snorts. "Different strokes for different folks," he says, turning to aim at the target again, trying to take her advice. Relax your muscles. Slow your breath. Just worry about the target. Don't worry 'bout work, or Sook, or everything at home in Bon fucking Temps. Just worry about how good it'll feel. To hit that target head on.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2014-02-03 06:49 pm (UTC)"Least, that's how I always felt. Whatever you gotta do to deal. You wanna go to church every Sunday, fine you wanna go to the gun range and shoot shit, fine. You wanna go home and stand nekkid in front of your fridge and eat your feelings out of an ice cream container, that fine too. And it's all a hell of a lot cheaper than a lifetime of Xanax and a shrink bill."
He snorts. "Different strokes for different folks," he says, turning to aim at the target again, trying to take her advice. Relax your muscles. Slow your breath. Just worry about the target. Don't worry 'bout work, or Sook, or everything at home in Bon fucking Temps. Just worry about how good it'll feel. To hit that target head on.
He pulls the trigger and lets it fly.